"On the day appointed for the return of unsold copies."

"Then I _have_ an idea," said Mr. DIBBLE. "It appears to me, Mr.
BENTHAM, that your office, besides being so near Mr. PENDRAGON'S
quarters, furnishes all the conditions for a perfectly private
confidential interview between this young lady here, and her friend,
Miss PENDRAGON. Mr. SIMPSON, if you approve, be kind enough to acquaint
Mr. BENTHAM with Miss POTTS'S history, without mentioning names; and
explain to him, also, why the ladies' interview should take place in a
spot whither that singular young man, Mr. BUMSTEAD, would not be likely
to prowl, if in town, in his inspection of umbrellas."

The Gospeler hurriedly related the material points of FLORA'S history to
his recovered friend, who moaned with all the more cheerful parts, and
seemed to think that the serious ones might be worked-up in comic
miss-spelling for his paper.--"For there is nothing more humorous in
human life," said he, gloomily, "than the defective orthography of a
fashionable young girl's education for the solemnity of matrimony."

Finally, they all set off for the appointed place of retirement, upon
nearing which Mr. DIBBLE volunteered to remain outside as a guard
against any possible interruption. The Gospeler led the way up the dark
stairs of the building, when they had gained it; and the Flowerpot,
following, on JEREMY BENTHAM'S arm, could not help glancing shyly up
into the melancholy face of her escort, occasionally. "Do you _never_
smile?" she could not help asking.

"Yes," he said, mournfully, "sometimes: when I clean my teeth."

No more was said; for they were entering the room of which the tone and